His Face
by White Rabbit Tale
Summary: Spoilers for Deathly Hallows. They are identical but they've never been the same.


**No. Definitely don't own any of it. **

**Before you take a single step further, be aware there is a BIIIIIIG spoiler alert on this fic. Do NOT read this if you haven't finished Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The last thing in the world I want to do is spoil it. Um, what are you even doing, reading fanfiction, if you haven't finished it??**

With that said, let me just say I know this fic will be done by many people, and many of them a lot better than me. But this, I felt was one of the most poignant moments in the book, perhaps the series, and it struck very close to my heart, so this is something I had to write. I hope I have conveyed what I meant by this piece, which is mostly some personal conclusions drawn from the relationship between two characters that, really, are one.

* * *

_His Face_

George can remember the look on Fred's face when he returned to the Burrow that day, one ear short. He was pale, paler than George had ever seen, and even his freckles had gone a green-tinged white. His face was gaping, his mouth open, eyes wide, and all in all he looked like a ridiculous imitation of himself. George can also remember the unbridled desire—no, need—that had erupted out of him at that moment. The need to protect his twin, his other half really, from that kind of grief.

So, ignoring the fact that he could now only hear on one side and that there was blood everywhere and he was sure it's all his, George lifted his head and said he felt saintlike. When this made Fred go whiter and more bizarre-looking than before, George patiently explained the joke, feeble as it was. But Fred's look of shock cracked and he broke into a smile, subsequently admonishing George for his lame joke. And George had done his job, but, wanting to prove he was the George in Fred-and-George, he tried again, this time with better results until he and Fred are Fred-and-George again, though not quite as identical.

What George can't remember is his own face—what he looks like after he finds out, after Percy and Harry and _not Fred_ come into the Great Hall. And he can't remember what his face looks like when he first lays eyes on Fred, his eyes dim his body limp, identical. George guesses that he looks identical to how Fred looked that day in the Burrow. He touches the hole where his ear used to be.

The tragedy is a blow. Molly and even Arthur had every belief in the whole that all nine of them would get out of this—bruised, maybe, scarred—but out just the same. Which is stupid, really, because the odds are against them if every blood traitor family is being hunted down cruelly and mercilessly. It's a bit stupid, George repeats to himself, and he doesn't know why, when he's staring down at Fred, at himself, really.

It's as if his arms have been ripped from his body. How can he…how can he _function_ without Fred? Everything they've done, it seems like, everything up to breaking into Hogwarts this night, every invention, every joke, was Fred's. The things George came up with, the great ideas that spawned in his mind were all to serve one purpose, and George has never seen it until now. Everything was to impress Fred, to be a worthy partner-in-crime to him. George fulfilled that role every day of his life. Fred was the genius, or maybe they were equally smart, they were identical after all, but he always went farther than George ever could, and in return George always protected him, without him knowing, perhaps without either of their knowing. And now...how can he be George? How can he be anyone, if it's not Fred-and-George?

He turns to the rest of his family, all gathered around, their faces warped in sorrow, maybe just to look at something else. There are tears falling, it's not just Molly, but Charlie and Arthur and Percy as well. Ron's white as anything and Ginny looks shell-shocked.

No one looks at George. This is the death of their son, their brother—but by no means their only one. George appreciates their grief and feels their sorrow, but he doesn't believe any of them can possibly feel as he does. There are plenty of Weasley boys, there always have been, but there has only ever been one Weasley twin.


End file.
